


Bad Hulk

by dreyrugr



Series: Tony Stark Appreciation [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bottom Tony, Can be read as stand alone, Coming Untouched, Complicated Relationships, Dom Bruce, Dom/sub Undertones, FRIDAY is a (not so) unwilling participant, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Milking, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, Overstimulation, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Rare Pairings, Science Bros, Soft Dom Bruce, Sub Tony, Sweet boys being sweet, Top Bruce, implied Dom Natasha, implied Top Natasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:33:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26977408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreyrugr/pseuds/dreyrugr
Summary: “Good,” Bruce murmurs, a soft praise. “That’s good, Tony.”“F-fuck you,” Tony shakes, shakes,shakes.He cries out as the other man takes his other nipple between thumb and pointer andsqueezes. “Bruce―”...Tony, Bruce, and Natasha have a standing agreement: Bruce gets to play around with Tony, only if he records it for her later viewing. This is one of their play dates.
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark, Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov, Bruce Banner/Tony Stark
Series: Tony Stark Appreciation [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1034687
Comments: 8
Kudos: 99





	Bad Hulk

**Author's Note:**

> _In which Bad Title is Bad...._

Bruce pats wordlessly on the cleared section of his worktop, a space just big enough to fit an adult male. “Are we recording, F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“It pains me to say that  _ I  _ am, Doctor Banner,” the A.I. replies.

“Should I be worried?” Tony says, though he hops up on the metal surface of Bruce’s desk all the same. There are papers with Bruce’s messy handwriting on either side of his spread legs―as if Tony has now become part of the other scientist’s work.

Bruce regards Tony for a beat over the rim of his glasses. He stares the other man down as he approaches closer still.

Tony’s legs open beautifully for him as they are suddenly pressed all too close. “That a gun in your pocket, doc?” he jokes. A corner of lips lifts up almost cockily, but the way he’s staring fixedly at Bruce―his pupils blown wide―gives him away.

Bruce doesn’t bother to reply―they both know it’s his arousal pressing against Tony’s leg. He reaches instead for Tony’s wrists. He curves the other man’s fingers around the edge of the table, just on the outside of his hips. The new position pushes Tony’s chest forward, making the tight fit of his shirt strain. The buttons look ready to pop. “You move, we’re done,” he says, firmly, forcing that bit of  _ alpha _ that he knows Tony likes to hear when they do this. “Got it?”

Tony visibly swallows. “Got it.”

Some of the topmost buttons are already undone, leaving in their wake a tantalizing triangle of skin. Bruce pops open the next and the next and the next one down until he has the scarred  _ v _ of Tony’s pectorals fully exposed. Then he takes the shirt by its widened collar and pulls it  _ down― _ down past Tony’s shoulders until it gets stuck just under the curve of his deltoids.

_ “Jesus―” _ Tony startles. “I do actually like this shirt, Banner.”

“It’ll survive,” Bruce retorts back, droll. He takes a step back to admire his work: two dusky nipples are exposed to the cold air, the tightness of the shirt just under his pecs pushing the muscles upwards. He pinches one nipple in question between two fingers, twists the little nub clockwise.

Tony yelps sharply―but his hands stay gripping the edge of the table. His breath hitches as his knees try to clamp down on either side of Bruce’s hips. His muscles bunch and shiver as he strains not to move.

“Good,” Bruce murmurs, a soft praise. “That’s good, Tony.”

“F-fuck you,” Tony shakes, shakes,  _ shakes. _ He cries out as the other man takes his other nipple between thumb and pointer and  _ squeezes. “Bruce―” _

Bruce lets go. He cups his hands along Tony’s ribs, feels the sharp rise and fall of his chest. He smoothes the pads of his thumbs round and round those little peaks, feeling with each pass how the flesh slowly hardens under his touch. Tony jolts like Bruce is zapping him with a live wire each time he brushes the undersides. He lets his gaze sweep down―and, wow, that’s a very delineated cock straining to break through Tony’s slacks. “I don’t know why I’m surprised at the things you do anymore,” he says, noting the obvious lack of underwear.

Tony’s eyes flutter open at that, but his voice seems to be lost. His eyes have taken on a glazed sort of look, watching Bruce with a sort of frazzled haze.

Bruce smiles gently. “You going down already, Tony?” He takes his question as his cue to start pulling on those nubs again, twisting and releasing them in turns.

Tony doesn’t reply, though he doesn’t cry out as sharply as the first time either. The burn and stretch of his nipples must be starting to spread like a slow wildfire just under his skin. Little, soft groans are slipping past his parted lips with each huffed breath he releases. Bruce is about to ask again when Tony eventually gasps out a soft, “N-no.” Then, with a hint of pleading, “Kiss me?”

Bruce laughs softly at the denial―he likes how petulant Tony can be about it―and leans the couple inches forward to slot their lips together.

Tony’s lips immediately fall open without any further lead up, just lets Bruce’s tongue worm its way into his mouth. Their tongues tangle and dance. It feels good, being inside Tony, trading slick heat―and it’s made all the more better when Tony’s mouth falls even more open with breathy moans as Bruce takes the opportunity to pinch and knead at those small, vulnerable peaks ever harder.

He plunders that mouth, almost frantic himself as he feels the need to come, to  _ thrust, _ pooling in his gut. As if freed with that thought, his hips thrust forward, right into the parted  _ v _ of Tony’s legs. Their cocks brush through the fabric and―

Tony suddenly convulses. He jerks and cries out, almost vibrating out of his skin, as a wet patch spreads and darkens his pants.

His fists are still clutched to the table’s edge.

Tony hasn’t gone soft yet when Bruce releases the other man’s abused nipples and reaches down to zip down Tony’s pants and scoop out his cock. There are traces of cum still smeared along Tony’s cockhead.

He gives no warning.

Tony tries to wrench away from him as his fist starts jerking him off like a jackhammer, but he can’t go far, not without releasing his grip on the table’s edge.  _ “Bruce!” _ he gasps out, futilely trying to move his hips away from the  _ too much _ overstimulation of his sensitive cock.  _ “God―” _

He doesn’t stop, just squeezes ever harder as he forces Tony’s cock to pass through the tight ring of his fingers. Doesn’t stop even as Tony starts convulsing, shuddering hard, with each up-down motion over the most burningly sensitive area tucked under the flared head of his cock. Doesn’t stop though true tears start clumping Tony’s thick lashes and rolling down his flushed red cheeks. Doesn’t stop for all the _“Bruce, pl―please! Stop! Please, god,_ ugnh, _stop, stop―oh, god, I_ can’t―” that fills his ears. Doesn’t stop even as Tony’s anguished cries keep rising in a crescendo―until they suddenly flare to a stop.

Cum spurts around Bruce’s fist. It splatters his lab coat, drips down to stain Tony’s dark slacks. He keeps going, milking Tony through the shock of his second orgasm, through the opened  _ o _ of his spit-slick, reddened lips, through arrested lungs that can’t seem to inhale air. He keeps going even as Tony regains his voice and the groans working out of his mouth are no longer those of pleasure. He keeps―

Tony’s hand closes around his wrist in a vice-like grip. “No…no  _ more,” _ he gasps,  _ “please.” _

Bruce immediately stops, slowly loosens his own vice-like grip around Tony’s pretty, bright red cock. “Shh,” he soothes, as Tony’s breath catches on a sob, “we’re done, Tony.” He cups that flushed face, kisses the high of his cheekbone. He licks his lips and tastes the salt of Tony’s sweat. “That was good,” he continues as he kneads at the hard knots at the base of Tony’s nape, slowly trying to ease the tension out of those shuddering shoulders. “You did good, Tony.”

Tony sags against him, his face tucked against the crook of Bruce’s neck. “Y’r mean,” he slurs out, his voice still high and breathy. “Bad Hulk.”

Bruce laughs. “Okay,” he agrees easily, “bad Hulk.” He presses another kiss to the closest part of Tony’s skin he can reach in this position, right next to the jut of his jawbone below his ear. “Thank you,” he breathes, “for allowing me this.”

He feels the stretch of Tony’s smile against his neck. Tony hums softly. “Should be the one thanking you. Don’t know how you can always wring me like a wet paper towel within the span of thirty minutes.” Tony nips at his skin, worries at it until Bruce’s hand on his back spasms involuntarily. “Magic hands,” he praises through his mouthful. Then, “You wanna come? Could use my mouth.”

Bruce groans at the mental image that incites―Tony on his knees, his nose buried in the curls at the base of his cock, his throat tight and spasming around the most sensitive part―but has to remember Natasha’s one rule:

_ “I want you to play with him. I want you to make him your toy. I want to hear all of his gasps and cries. I want to watch you  _ wreck him. _ But your cum? Your cum is  _ mine.”

His cock twitches painfully in its confines. “Don’t have a rubber on me. Next time?”

Tony presses a kiss to the hickey he has just made. “Next time, big guy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think! :D


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